


Who is Merlin?

by readmered



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Arthur gets his comuppance, Backstory, Bromance, Cold/Angry!Merlin, Epic Bromance, Fluff, Gen, Knights around the campfire, Knights share stories, Mentions of Freylin, resolved tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-05
Updated: 2015-08-05
Packaged: 2018-04-13 04:52:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4508520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/readmered/pseuds/readmered
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the knights take Merlin for granted after a hard day, although he knows he can never tell them everything, he decides to put them in their place, especially one kingly prat. Angst, angst, and bromance. No slash.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Who is Merlin?

Disclaimer: If Merlin was mine, it would probably suck. Thank god it isn't.

Summary: When the knights take Merlin for granted after a hard day, although he knows he can never tell them everything, he decides to put them in their place, especially one kingly prat. Angst, angst, and bromance. No slash.

Who is Merlin?

The knights sat around their fire, disappointed that what was meant to be an exciting chase through the wood only ended with their prankster and traitor falling on his own knife. To make up for it, the men decided to share their best stories from before they met.

Gwaine had plenty, but since they all ended the same – with him either in jail or in someone else’s bed – the others shut him up.

Leon had some interesting tales of prisoners who had escaped, and a woman he had fallen in love with who, shockingly, revealed himself as a man.

Elyan told them of his first few years travelling after he had left Camelot.

Percival said he didn’t have much to say, but eventually opened up to regale them with a fantastic fishing tale from his youth.

Arthur, like always, didn’t tell many of his own full stories, but interrupted others to one-up them.

Merlin sat a ways away, watching the darkness of the wood for any more threats. The ‘prankster’ had actually been an assassin sent by Odin to kill Queen Guinevere before she could produce an heir and to weaken Arthur. Merlin had discovered the plot when the disguised man had attempted to glean information about the king and queen’s chambers. No matter how skilled, Merlin always managed to find a way to stop them before it was too late. In the nights after close calls, Merlin would lay awake, not daring to get up, but afraid that if he didn’t, he would miss something that would cost his friends their lives.

In the cool dry night, Merlin shivered. He had almost looked over the trap set for them if the assassin failed. Merlin had realized just before the feast that every meat pie set on the table had been enchanted. Without him, live crows buried in the pies would have sprung to life, impossible to kill, and would not rest until Arthur and Gwen were dead. Merlin wasn’t prepared to undo the enemy’s entire spell, but was able to at least redirect the birds to escape the hall as quickly as possible.

When that plan failed, the kitchen boy tried to attack the king, foolhardily thinking he would be distracted enough to allow him to slip past Arthur’s guard. Needless to say, when this too failed, he ran. Arthur gathered the knights and they followed the trail the boy had left. In secret, Merlin had gone ahead to confront the sorcerer. When a magical fight ensued, Merlin ensured it ended with his opponent impaling himself. That is how the knights found him in the light of day, believing the coward too afraid to face them.

Merlin could only shake his head in disgust. Whether that disgust was for himself for killing such a young boy, or for the knights who had such large ego and a thirst for a hunt, he didn’t know. Maybe it was both. He half-listened to his friends, not wanting to join in the fun just yet.

“Merlin, my friend, join us!” Apparently he didn’t have a choice. Not that he would deny Gwaine when he called him so directly.

After he had sat down in their circle, Merlin steeled himself to a night of mindless chatter. His silent wall didn’t last long.

“What’s the matter, Merlin; did those crows earlier give you a fright?” Arthur had stopped Elyan’s story to pick on his manservant.

“No, Arthur, it’s just that your stories always put me to sleep,” Arthur could see Merlin was trying to joke, but it seemed he couldn’t pull himself out of whatever funk he had been in the past two days. Without acknowledging his king any further, Merlin gestured for Elyan to resume.

Arthur sat back, unsatisfied. Later, when the got back to warmth and no escape routs, Arthur would corner him and get his friend to spill. Until then…

“No, that’s alright, nothing much happens after that.” Elyan waved off his story. Arthur sat up, expecting a new branch in the conversation. “Why doesn’t Merlin tell us one?” Arthur slouched again, disappointed.

“Merlin doesn’t have stories. Even if he does, I’ve heard them all twice before.” Smirking, he looked over to his manservant, who seemed more and more unhappy with every word. “I mean, come on,” he directed this at Merlin, “I know everything about you already!”

Merlin, however, had a very different reaction than the king expected. He barked out a hollow, chilling laugh and said, “You don’t know anything, Arthur.” Then he froze, as if he hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

“What are you talking about?” The rest of the knights had gone silent, clearly wishing not to be a part of their suddenly tense conversation.

“It’s just that anything relevant you know about me all came from circumstance, not from me actually telling you.” A few tentative glances were thrown Arthur’s way by the knights.  
“That’s not true!”

“What’s my last name?”

Arthur froze. Everyone but Merlin was staring at him. The man who wasn’t looking at him stared into the flames, not angry or accusing, just asking questions. This was the look every man feared. It wasn’t anything but disappointed. Every man present felt true remorse, even if the question hadn’t been directed at them. But the damn had broken. More questions followed.

“Who was my first kiss?” He didn’t know. Perhaps someone in Ealdor?

“What was the name of the girl I fell in love with after coming to Camelot? How did she die?” What? Merlin… in love? He hadn’t even realized. His chest ached for his friend. He had lost his love and bore it alone?

“Who is my father? When did I meet him? How did he die?” This one too surprised Arthur. Merlin had once said he never met his father, now he said he had and that he had died.  
“Who was the first man I killed? Who was the most recent?” Merlin’s pained tone slammed Arthur with guilt. The first time he had killed, Morgana, Leon, his friends, even his father were there to assure him. Merlin had only Gaius, and perhaps not always.

“Why did I come to Camelot?” Arthur knew this answer, and tried to say so, but for the first time, Merlin looked at him. “Why did I stay?” Arthur hoped he knew the answer, but was no longer sure.

“What is my greatest fear? What is my highest hope?” Merlin faced him, head on, eyes glinting and emotionless. He didn’t know, damn it all. He didn’t know when the man next to him really was, at the heart of all things. 

“What thought gets me up in the morning?” Arthur gave up trying to console himself.

Arthur thought the barrage was finished, but Merlin had one more, one that cut him to the heart.

“When I lie to your face, and you know I do, what’s the truth?” The king hung his head, realizing he had never earned the title of Friend. That Merlin didn’t trust him, above all else, hurt more than he could say. He stared at the ground, waiting for something to happen, but hoping nothing did.

Out of the corner of his eye, Arthur saw Merlin stand and leave their group. The knights remained silent, each pondering where they had gone wrong. Arthur, however, knew exactly when. He remembered the days when Merlin had only just joined him, and more. The boy had gotten a horse and followed him into danger, saved his life once or twice, and had always given him advice that, although he would ignore it, had been right every time.

The king ran a hand through his hair. Had he honestly believed he knew everything about Merlin when he had never, in all their talks and long hunts and adventures together actually asked Merlin about himself? True, Merlin never stopped talking, but that didn’t mean he ever said anything.

As Arthur’s thoughts progressed through each question, he stopped himself before the last one could be put into light. He stood, mimicking Merlin, and tramped through the forest after his… friend?

He found Merlin sitting on the edge of a high bluff, feet dangling and eyes just looking into the stars. Arthur didn’t want to scare him, knowing the clumsy man might very well fall off the edge.

“It’s alright, Arthur, I know you’re there.”

“Why are you hanging over a cliff, Merlin?” Arthur’s palms were sweating just watching him.

“It’s like in a fight, you realize you can’t spare time for those things that don’t matter. Your body only tries to keep you from falling. It stops you from thinking too much.” Arthur said nothing, but very slowly sat down next to him.

“I’m sorry.” Merlin started so violently Arthur threw out a hand to stop him slipping.

“Seriously?”

“Don’t get used to it.”

“Yes, sire.” Arthur held back a relieved sigh. Merlin wasn’t really angry, but that didn’t mean Arthur still hadn’t messed up royally.

“Tell me.”

“What?”

“Tell me everything. Beginning to end.” The man next to him shifted uncomfortably. “And no getting out of it, Merlin”

“But… It’s cold!”

“What did I just say?” Merlin harrumphed, but wiggled himself into a comfortable slouch to do exactly as he was told, with a few exceptions.

So began the twisting tale of Merlin’s childhood and how he came to be in Camelot. The first man he had killed had been on the way to Camelot, when Merlin had seen highwaymen attacking a group of women and their children waiting for the men to come in from planting. Somehow, Merlin had driven them all off except one, who used one of the young girls as hostage. The story didn’t match up with the Merlin he knew, who couldn’t wield a blade to save his life, but would certainly endanger himself for any stranger. Arthur found himself almost tearing up at the stories of Freya and his father – which was so vague in context it didn’t reveal much at all. Arthur heard every pause and stutter where Merlin made a split-second decision to leave something out, but he let it go. Perhaps that was a question neither of them wanted answered out loud yet.

When they returned to their camp, the fire was low and the knights were asleep, even Elyan who had volunteered to take first watch.

“Get some sleep; I’ll keep watch for now.”

Merlin got his bedroll out and prepared for sleep after building up the fire. Arthur thought he was out when he heard a quiet, “Thank you, Arthur,” come from his – now he knew he could say it – best friend.

The End

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all! I want to apologize; I haven't really gone over this story more than once, so there may be mistakes. Oops. There you go, I hoped you enjoyed it! Please oh please tell me if you liked it, especially if you want more. I have tons of ideas, now I just want to know if someone will read them!


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